Aftermath
by Melodi Rae
Summary: The aftermath of a hunt gone bad. Triaging, patching up, and some brotherly moments between Caleb and Dean. Pre-series, one-shot, Brotherhood AU. Dean – 20, Sam – 16.


_Author's Note: I love the aftermath of hunts, but they barely show it in the show, so I've been wanting to write my own detailed version of one…_

 _And then I came across_ _ **Ridley C James'**_ _Brotherhood AU series, more specifically a fic titled:_ _ **Healing**_ _and fell in love with the protective and loving relationship between Caleb and Dean. So here's my take on Ridley's piece 'Healing' which takes on a new direction as the story unfolds. I absolutely take NO credit for this amazing AU, the characters, or the plot to this fic, it's all Ridley's magic!_

 _\- M. Rae_

X

"God damnit that was a disaster." The oldest Winchester shouted as he kicked his dirty boot against the cabin door, supporting a bleeding Bobby under his weight. John had an oozing gash along his jawline that was slowly leaking dark blood down his chin and neck. Bobby limped along protecting a battered leg and a bloodied shirt, gripping John's leather jacket for support. The pair was covered in dirt.

Mackland Ames stood with a start at the sound of the commotion and shot his eyes to the blasted through door. "Jim…" He called out wearily to his colleague in the back room, sensing the long night undoubtedly ahead of them all.

"What the hell was that Dad?!" Sam busted through next, already questioning his quarrelsome father.

Jim hustled in from the kitchen and looked to the group collecting in the front room. He started to take stalk of everyone's condition. So far, no one appeared unscathed, each covered in a combination of cuts, blood, and dirt.

"Sam, not right now." John hushed his youngest and dropped Bobby to the sofa who grunted in response to the rough landing.

"What happened?" The Guardian questioned the room.

Mac ran to Bobby's side and placed his hands on the man's leg, already beginning his assessment.

Caleb Reaves then slammed his foot through the jarred open door. He was shouldering a stumbling Dean who by the looks of it, appeared the most damaged out of the group. Dean's head limped dangerously low to his chest, his body uncoordinated forcing Reaves to readjust his hold on the quickly fading hunter.

"Caleb, you two okay? Dean?" Ames studied the two young hunters in worry, assessing their injuries from afar from his position next to Bobby.

"We're okay Dad, Bobby's got a bad bleed… just check on Deuce when you're done." Caleb voiced glancing down at his surrogate little brother within his hold.

The middle Winchester had blood smeared under his nose and around his bottom lip. His eyes were half shut and his shirt showed a crimson stain along his rib cage. The boy was also wheezing softly. Reaves demonstrated a series of cuts along one side of his face with a mixture of dirt and blood smeared across both wrists and hands.

Sam looked to his brother's wavering form and shot his eyes furiously back to his father's. "The bait idea _never_ works, do you even care what happens to Dean?"

John groaned. "It was your brother's idea and choice, Sam, _not_ mine, get your facts straight!" He didn't even turn his attention to the angered teen, he simply kept his focus on his best friend in front of him.

Dean reached a shaking hand up to his face and grimaced at the pain that was building in his head. Why did they always have to fight, it was exhausting to listen to and at the moment, quite painful.

Mac caught Dean's raw expression and sensed the growing headache he must've been yielding, the yelling wasn't helping.

"Look at this Dad." Sam flipped his palms to the ceiling and circled his gaze around the room looking at each battered hunter. "That was a shitshow!"

"Samuel!" Jim boomed at the youngest in warning.

"That's it!" John snapped and stood abruptly.

"No, please… Dad, stop-" Dean started to do what he did best, get in between his hotheaded family but Mackland wasn't having it.

"Get him out of here!" Mac pointed his son towards the bathroom. The psychic quickly turned and half dragged his prized package down the hall away from the ensuing chaos. "Sam, this is not the time for a screaming match." The doctor voiced sternly. "We need to patch all of you up, now." Mac went into triage mode.

"Let me take a look at you." The pastor beckoned the angered young Winchester over to him. He was eyeing the blood stain trailing down the teen's arm he spotted as Sam was pulling off his jacket.

"That thing phased in and out faster than anythin' I've ever seen." Bobby grumbled as he cradled his swelling knee with his shaking hands.

"This is what happens when we veer from the plan…" John mumbled to no one specifically but Sam caught the jab instantly.

"This is your fault!" The teen shouted again from across the room.

Caleb slammed the door shut behind them, muffling the shouting from the main room in the cabin. He fumbled into the small bathroom and manhandled his friend over towards the shower. He lifted Dean's arm that was slung around his neck to his front and guided the younger hunter to sit on the edge of the bathtub, supporting both of Dean's elbows through the descent.

Dean sat hard and had his eyes squeezed shut in pain. He started to slump forward tiredly causing Caleb to grip his shoulders and catch his body weight from sliding completely off the porcelain edge.

"Hey, hey, you with me?" Reaves questioned in concern, pushing his friend upright.

The middle Winchester nodded without opening his eyes. "Yeah m' here." He confirmed.

"Just stay awake Deuce, I gotta check you out." Reaves ordered as he reached behind him without loosening his one armed hold on Dean. He rummaged to find some towels below the sink.

Dean's eyes fluttered as he forced himself to take a deep breath in, then out.

"Better buy me dinner first." The twenty year old mumbled.

The older hunter huffed in amusement, that was the Dean he knew and loved. Reaves did not dare let go of his friend so he half kneeled on the floor in front of him and began taking off Dean's filthy leather jacket. "Help me out, man. Let's get this off so I can patch up this gash."

Dean went to assist but inhaled sharply when a burst of pain shot through his side. "'S not a gash…" Winchester slurred painfully, but he didn't finish his thought.

Caleb sensed the distress immediately. "What do you mean?" He questioned in worry.

Dean didn't answer. He sat trying to collect his thoughts and manage the agony currently pulsing through his body. Although muffled, the shouting match could still be heard through the hollow walls. The young hunter looked so tired, physically and emotionally. Dean let his head drop some and Caleb exhaled in sympathy. He then reached his hand out and cupped the back of his friend's head, pulling the kid into his chest for support. "Alright." He tried to soothe his battered friend. "I gotcha."

The older hunter slid one hand under Dean's shoulder and around his back, effectively supporting the younger hunter's weight against his chest. With Dean's head now nestled underneath his chin, he used his free arm to begin working the leather jacket off his dirt covered comrade.

The middle Winchester let himself relax into his friend's hold, he had no energy left and felt like he was mere moments away from passing out. His best friend had him though, he always did.

After much finagling, Reaves was able to work the jacket off. Dean was slumped heavily against Caleb now who had the hunter in a one armed hug as he dropped the dirtied jacket aside in a heap next to the toilet.

"Slide down." Reaves ordered and Dean felt himself get pushed to the front of the tub where he could support his shoulder against the tiled wall beneath the shower head.

"Look up for a second." The psychic gripped Dean's chin in his hand and tipped it back to get a better look at his face. Dean lifted one arm up and placed it on his friend's shoulder to support himself better as a wave of dizziness blew through him. "When did these happen?" Caleb inquired about the bloodied nose and split lip.

The middle Winchester licked his swollen lip and responded briefly. "Bit through it when the bitch dropped me."

Reaves nodded in affirmation and continued poking at the wound that was still bleeding. He flipped the hunter's lip down to view the inside and could see the cut his upper canine had carved through the swollen skin.

"Ow." Dean jerked his head away slightly from his friend's rough prodding.

"That's gonna need stitches, Deuce." Reaves concluded as he released Dean's face.

Dean resumed his slumped forward position and placed his head in his own shaking and dirtied hands. The older hunter then reached for the back of Dean's black T-shirt and pulled the material up his back and over his head. "Arms." He ordered simply. The duo finished sliding the shirt off and Caleb added it to the pile near the toilet.

"Alright let me look at you." Reaves pulled a too quiet Dean away from his front and placed his fingertips along the hunter's left side; Caleb paled at what he saw. Embedded within Dean's ribcage was a jagged piece of thin rebar, the hunter must've been impaled during the fall. The psychic inhaled. "Jesus Deuce, doesn't that hurt?" This was way out of his pay grade.

"Ya. It does." Dean answered curtly keeping his eyes tightly shut. He was breathing heavier now.

The older hunter was mortified. "Did you know this was in there? Why the hell didn't you tell anyone?"

The young hunter glanced down at his side, winced, and let his eyes shut again. "I knew there was _something_ there, didn't know what. Didn't want to cause another… fight…" Dean trailed off suddenly and slumped forward into his friend's chest again; he was losing his battle with consciousness, and fast.

The psychic jumped in surprise but quickly caught the younger hunter while trying to avoid jostling the metal bar sticking out of his side. "Woah, you okay? You with me? … Dean?" He asked urgently.

The middle Winchester was panting and his mind childishly drifted to how the process of removing this bar, _without_ a hospital and medications, was going to go. The pain would be unbearable. He tried to calm himself by taking a deep breath in but the expansion of his ribs caused a sharp, merciless shock to permeate his side again. It was all too much in that one moment and he panicked. "Caleb, help." Dean let the desperate words slip as he sat, slumped against his bestfriend.

Reaves shouted without hesitation. "DAD!"

Dean had regretted his words the moment they slipped out of his mouth. He was overwhelmed with the intense need to take back his show of weakness and instead provide comfort to his best friend who was now freaking out. Dean was fine, _I'm always fine. It's going to be fine… God this hurts though._

Dean started to mumble. "Ey're gonna fight-" but Reaves cut him off. "They won't, everything's going to be okay." He lied as he worked to support Dean's weakening body from sliding to the ground.

"I need some help in here!" Caleb shouted again, hoping his voice could be heard over the ongoing battle of words taking place in the living room.

"Dm'ien…"

Luckily, the psychic heard pounding footsteps approaching and the door slammed open revealing a worried Pastor Jim. "What is it?" He asked anxiously. "My God, what happened?" He exclaimed, striding forward to help Reaves as soon as he saw the boy's crumpled over form.

Sam's face appeared behind the Pastor's. "What's wrong?"

"Watch his side, he's got a piece of rebar sticking out." Reaves announced as Jim moved in to help support Dean. The middle Winchester's head hung low and his cheek was pressed and held up against Caleb's chest. His eyes were shut, mouth parted open slightly, his face nearly lax.

"Mackland! We need you, now!" The Guardian shouted over his shoulder.

"What is it?" the distant and gruff voice of John Winchester could be heard from down the hall.

Hard footsteps approached and rounded the corner revealing a gloved and bloody-handed Mac. He was doffing the gloves covered in Bobby's blood as he stepped into the small bathroom. Ames was looking down at Dean as he donned a fresh pair trying to guess what the issue was when he spotted a trail of blood dripping down the white porcelain tub, puddling across the tiled floor. He maneuvered around Sam and occupied the cramped space that was now filled with four large men.

"Caleb, move, son." Mac ordered as he grabbed a towel from below the sink planning on staunching the source of the blood trail he had just located.

Caleb refused to lose his contact with his best friend so he stood up and sat next to Dean on the edge of the tub, still providing him with support from the side.

"Jesus, Dean. How did you get tangled up in this?" The doctor shook his head, finally seeing the source of Caleb's panicked yelling. He probed at the rebar piece and shifted Dean forward to look for an exit wound. There was none.

"Does he need a hospital?" Sam spoke up from the doorway.

Mackland continued his inspection. "This needs to come out, but I have no eyes here, I can't cauterize and control the bleeding. He needs an operating room."

"The closest hospital is over an hour away… can he wait that long?" Jim was studying his colleague's face, looking for an honest answer. The situation was looking bleak.

Mac reached a hand up and placed it on Dean's forehead, tipping his face up some. The twenty-year old was breathing heavily and rapidly but did not open his eyes.

"An hour is a longtime." Ames stated shaking his head, clearly weighing out his options.

"Sammy! What's going on, is your brother okay?" John yelled again from down the hall, his voice becoming anxious.

"Dean needs a hospital!" He shouted back but did not leave his post.

"Johnathan, of course. I'll go switch out with him, were you just finishing the sutures on Bobby's back?" Jim asked the doctor. He sensed the fatherly urge John was exhibiting, eager to know what was happening with his oldest but unable because Bobby needed to be stabilized as well.

"Yes, the biggest job is done, just help close him up and get it covered immediately." Ames directed not taking his eyes off his newest patient.

Jim nodded and slowly let go of Dean's chest allowing Caleb and Mac to take the full weight of the middle Winchester. "I got him." Caleb confirmed and with that Jim stormed out to relieve John of his duty.

Ames worked to wrap the towel he had grabbed around the base of the metal piece, pressing it against Dean's skin in order to stabilize it and staunch some of the bleeding. Dean cried out and reached his hand for the source which was swiftly blocked by Reaves' grip. "It's okay, Mac's gonna patch you up and then you can sleep for like a week." Caleb tried to comfort his hurting friend.

More pounding footsteps approached and John's battered face appeared by the doorway. "What's the problem?" The Knight demanded, ready to give his own opinion on what the solution should be.

He moved into the cramped space and knelt down next to Mac in front of Caleb to get a better look.

"Damn it, Dean. What a mess." John groaned placing one of his hands on his son's knee, his eyes widening as he took in the site of the metal bar protruding out of his eldest's abdomen.

"Dean, I need you to listen to me and answer my questions." Mackland cupped his gloved hand around the boy's lax face and tried to rouse him. After a moment, the boy's eyes fluttered open but then quickly closed again.

"K." was all he could manage as a response, but at least it was something. Ames nodded.

"Alright, does this hurt if I press here?" The doctor began his examination, with John at his side now.

Ames prodded at the skin around the metal piece on the twenty-year old's front. "Just sore." Dean answered tiredly.

Mackland moved his hands to Dean's side towards his back and tried again. "What about here?"

He cried out in pain almost instantly and withdrew his body away from the doctor's touch. "Yes, yes."

"Alright, Deuce, just try and breathe." Reaves coached but the psychic was becoming more impatient and worried by the second.

"How are we going to get this out?" John inquired, knowing the hospital was way too far to be a viable option.

" _We're_ not. He needs to go to a hospital, _Dad_. You can't take that thing out!" Sam declared, completely beside himself.

John looked up at his youngest. "The hospital is too far son."

"Mac said he had to!" Sam rebuttled immediately, looking towards the doctor to back up his opinion.

"I can't see in here, this space is way too small, let's get him out to the kitchen." Mac ignored the banter and took control of the situation.

"What do you need, Dad?" Reeves asked as he lifted one of Dean's arm up and slung it around his shoulders, bracing to lift him on one side. The doctor moved in and did the same on Dean's left side, using his inside hand to keep pressure around the towel and the rebar piece. The middle Winchester groaned at the repositioning as his now elevated arms tore upwards on the tender skin and the metal rod.

"I need someone to get my med kit out of the truck, I need a handful of clean towels, and I need that kitchen table cleaned off." Sam immediately turned around and headed for the kitchen, reacting on the urgency he heard in the doctor's tone. John did the opposite. He stood and watched his friend and protégé warily, making no move to leave his son's side.

Caleb stared intently at his father's face, trusting and depending on his medical knowledge to keep his surrogate brother alive. He waited until Ames looked him in the eye and nodded. The duo then stood, hefting a heavy and exhausted Dean Winchester with them. The young hunter responded immediately to the change in position.

"Damn it!" Dean growled out as his face scrunched in agony. His head dropped down to his chest when another wave of vertigo, and now nausea, overwhelmed him and he let himself be held up by his doctor and friend for a moment. His breathing was heavy and he felt moments away from passing out.

"It's okay, just breathe through it, I'll give you something for the pain in a minute." At that Mackland shot his gaze up to the worried father in front of him. "John, I need my med kit _now_." He all but ordered, breaking the man from his stupor. John let his guard down at those words and shook his head, his hard expression never eased, however. After another moment passed of John staring at Dean's face, he swiftly turned and disappeared from the doorframe, retreating around the corner.

The trio stood in eerie silence, the only sound was distant rummaging, a quiet murmur of a conversation, and Dean's ragged breathing. "You ready Dean?" Dean took a minute but then exhaled as he nodded sharply. "Let's go then." Mackland finished.

The treck to the kitchen was agonizing and slow, but they made it with minimal grunts and pants from the stoic Winchester, much to Caleb's relief. He couldn't stand seeing his friend so disheveled, he should've prevented it somehow.

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to lie down on your back so I can work on this-" The doctor trailed off, trying to find the right word as to not panic the boy farther. "on the bleeding." He decided.

Dean groaned. "Mac, feel like 'm gonna be sick, can't lie down." His eyes were lazily open revealing two slits of pained green irises.

"I'll be as quick as I can." The doctor encouraged with a weak smile. Caleb and Ames guided Dean to sit on the edge of the table and then with the help of Sam guiding Dean's legs, the three of them lowered the battered hunter across the wooden surface.

Dean let his right leg bend up as he dug his dirtied boot into the surface of the table. His right hand was wrapped protectively around his midsection, keeping a safe distance away from the protruding metal, however. His head nocked to the side away from the wound and Caleb was trained protectively at his head, tousling his hair playfully in empathy.

John moved into the kitchen at that moment, shouldering the large black kit that he was so familiar with by now. He dropped the bag on the closest chair that was moved aside by Sam when he had cleared the table.

Mackland glanced over and asked for a few items inside the kit, whilst keeping hold on Dean's side. "Caleb can you hand me some of those towels there, I'm going to try and clear some of this blood away." The psychic nodded and grasped a pile of hand towels, discarding them next to Dean's left hip for the doctor to use.

Mac took the scissors he had requested and quickly cut Dean's black shirt away from the metal so he had a full view of the wound. Next he removed the soaked and bloody towel away from the rebar and took hold of the saline solution John had just handed him. Blood dripped in mini streams down Dean's side and pooled lightly on the table under his back, but the blood loss did not seem excessive to the doctor.

"I have to flush the wound Dean, this is going to sting." The hunter gave a curt nod and kept his eyes squeezed shut. Reeves moved his hand to lie permanently against Dean's matted hair as a sign of comfort in anticipation.

Mackland spurted the area with the saline while simultaneously wiping away the trails of blood, both dried and flowing.

Dean hissed and cringed protectively towards his left side out of reflex, but Caleb swiftly gripped his right shoulder and pinned it down to the table. Ames continued to spray the area and clean away the blood until he could see the edges of Dean's skin, wrapped tightly around the metal rod. He studied the wound for about a minute, poking and prodding at areas around the metal and then finally removed his hands from Dean's abdomen.

"Roll him onto his side a little, but be careful." Mac instructed next. Dean was rolled slowly to his right side towards Caleb. "Okay stop." The doctor halted their movements. "Just support him there for a minute." He ordered as he poked at Dean's side and back, trying to determine how far the rod penetrated the hunter's body. He continued to probe and shook his head, still unsure.

"Can you do it?" John asked gruffly, his arms crossed against his chest, his face blank of any emotion, besides his resting state of general displeasure.

"I can't tell, John." He stated frustratingly. "Roll him back, let me see what I have for supplies." Ames stated and he began to peel off his gloves in place of fresh ones as he made his way to his kit. Caleb and Sam eased Dean back down and moved slightly towards Mackland to hear what the verdict was. If they had to go, they had to go _now_.

The doctor sifted through his bag as he spoke to the group behind him. "The problem with any impalement is that the object could be acting as a plug, it almost always does. If it is, he could bleed out in seconds if we removed it in an uncontrolled environment like this."

Sam glanced back at his brother's panting form on the table and eyed the protruding rebar piece sticking frighteningly out of his front.

"If it didn't nick the thoracoepigastric vein, which is the only major blood vessel in the area and therefore the only one I'm worried about, then we could clot the wound and sew it up here." The doctor shook his head again.

"Well what are the chances it hit that vein, can you tell by how it looks?" Caleb tried, truly trying to help his father determine what to do and how best to help the injured hunter.

"It depends on the angle, it depends on the depth, it depends on a lot of things." He countered.

"This is too risky." Sam piped in.

"Sam, just wait a minute." John tried to shush his son and hear the doctor out.

"No, I don't like these odds, they're too high." Caleb agreed. He wasn't going to lose his friend on a guess. No way. He trusted his father's abilities but he also _listened_ and could hear the doubt in his words.

"Well how long could he last in the car with the thing still in him." John inquired next.

"Not long. But he could go into shock if we don't remove it…" the doctor pondered the option. "He could also go into shock if we do remove it."

Sam sighed in frustration. "This is so bad! You can't let him die Mac." The youngest hunter was showing his age, he was so fearful of losing his one and only brother and protector.

John spoke up again. "Mac, you have to try, an hour is way too far-"

"Dad! He's saying he can't do it!"

"Samuel, you are _six_ _teen_ years old. Shut. Your. Mouth. _I_ am in charge of this family-"

"And look where that got us!" Sam opened his hand behind him motioning towards Dean.

John glanced over towards his eldest and his macho bravado swiftly wiped from his face, his eyes opened in fear. "Dean, no!" He bellowed.

Caleb paled seeing his mentor's demeanor change so suddenly and he swung around to figure out the cause. Dean was no longer lying flat on the table where they left him, he was somehow standing with both hands clutched to the rebar rod in his side, his intentions obvious. "Dean don't!" He screamed, along with Sam and Mackland's warning remarks but Dean had made up his mind and no one could move fast enough to stop him.

The middle Winchester yanked the metal piece clear from his abdomen and let out a cry of pain. The rebar dropped to the ground with a clang, along with a pool of blood that sloshed to the floor at his feet.

Dean instantly crashed to his knees in shock and then started listing backwards, no strength left in his body to slow his lifeless descent to the unforgiving tile. Caleb closed the short distance between the doorway and his friend and slid to his knees behind Dean, catching his shoulders before he slammed into the ground. Dean's head knocked back into Caleb's chest as he came to a crashing stop on the tile floor, his legs bent and twisted underneath him slightly.

"Dad!" Caleb shouted in panic, feeling Dean's pool of blood already soaking through his jeans while readjusting his friend's fading body within his arms.

Ames and the rest of the stunned crowd rushed to Dean's side. The doctor snatched up a pile of clean gauze pads on his way and slammed them down against the rapidly bleeding wound. "Damn it Dean! What were you thinking?!" He asked, flustered and trying to gain control of the situation.

"Son-" John rounded the doctor's side and grasped Dean's forearm in his hand, fear and worry written all over his face.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, falling to his knees at his brother's feet, his hands covering his face.

Mackland pushed hard knowing full well he had to clot the wound without losing the pressure which generated a moan from Dean's throat.

"Is he gonna be okay? There's so much blood." Sam all but whispered, horrified of the answer.

Ames looked down at the rebar piece first and analyzed the amount of blood on the tip of it, determining how far the metal piece had resided inside of Dean's abdomen. It was less than two inches, much less than he had thought. He then looked down at the pool of blood on the floor, calculating how many liters Dean potentially had lost. Lastly, he peeled away his gloved hands ever so slightly to see if the wound had already bled through the gauze pads he put down. He let out a breath of relief. "If the vein was hit, there'd be three times as much blood as this, you're damn lucky kid. it's already clotting."

Caleb let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Deuce, that was so dumb, you could've killed yourself-"

"Dean Winchester, don't you ever do something so reckless and _stupid_ again, you could have _died!_ "John shouted, the words coming out more harshly than he intended making his eldest cringe on the floor.

"Johnny, back off." Caleb quickly defended, tightening his grip on his surrogate brother's shoulders protectively.

Dean finally looked up at his friend and shook his head.

"'Was m' d-decision." He started, switching his gaze from Caleb's eyes to his Dad's, and then to Mackland's. "Not Dd's, n- not Sm's, mine." Dean declared sluggishly. The doctor stared back into the middle Winchester's eyes and saw miles of determination, anger, and pure exhaustion beneath them.

"You're right Dean, I should've asked you first son." Mac folded simply.

"Dad, yr fightins' gna kill m'." Dean slurred sluggishly, suddenly extremely tired.

John shut his eyes in defeat, abruptly speechless.

"Yr' ncharge of this fmly." Dean repeated his father's words spoken not even one minute ago. "Jst cool it. Sam's jst a kid-" His words triggered a coughing fit which racked his body and jostled the fresh and sensitive stab wound causing the Winchester to grimace and recoil into himself.

"Alright son, alright, you're right, I'm sorry. Just relax." John completely caved and gripped his son's arm even tighter. Dean faltered for a minute and then reciprocated the grasp with his own weak hand, wrapping his fingers around his father's dirtied forearm. The two were linked together in a touching and rare Winchester embrace, and Dean knew he had gotten through.

John was in charge of this family, which meant he needed to have control over his emotions, he _should_ have more control than his two teenage sons at least. But he knew he didn't, Dean held that honor of control and mediation and stability. He couldn't believe the limits Sam could bring him to, the teenager could completely cloud his rationale decision making skills and easily drive his frustrations to lead his actions. How could he be so stupid to let Dean drag through the crossfire, his little soldier, his first born?

"Dean?" Caleb stilled as he felt his friend go completely limp in his grasp unexpectedly.

"It's okay, he's just passed out. Probably from the blood loss and the pain." The doctor quickly reassured them after checking the man's pupils and breathing.

"Sam, I could use your help in a minute for a blood transfusion, only if you want to though."

Sam nodded eagerly, it wasn't the first time he needed to help Dean by giving him blood after a hunt gone wrong. "Yes please, I want to help."

Mac nodded but didn't move his hands. "This will take about ten minutes to fully clot, after that, I'll set the transfusion up and sew Dean back together, good as new." The three observers physically relaxed at Mackland's words.

Dean was going to be okay. The aftermath of this hunt had once again, not been pretty, but it turned out positive in the end. Everyone had made it and the brotherhood of hunters would live to hunt another day. But tonight, everyone allowed sweet sleep to consume them and the next day, they permitted themselves to take the whole day off and just enjoy each other's company. That day following had actually turned out to be one of Dean's favorite birthday's yet, having to postpone his first legal drink was not even a second thought to him.

 **END**


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